The Turkey Hunt
(Page 3 of 3)
October/November 1996
By Edward Stern
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I turned and was halfway to the house when it hit me. "Jen"
I turned around and went back to the shed. "I can't embarrass her in front of her family," I thought.
So I got ready for the hunt. First, I slipped on the camouflage pants, then the shirt, the hunting vest, and the boots. And looking in a small mirror on the wall, I stood and painted my face until the only things that weren't dark green, olive, or black were the whites of my eyes. Then I grabbed the biggest of the shotguns off the wall. Maybe it was true love, or maybe just too little sleep, but when I walked out of the shed I was ready to kill, and all but kicked open the kitchen door with my excitement.
The family had just sat down for breakfast. No one said a word for a moment. Then finally Jen's father spoke. "Mornin' Ed" he said.
"Good morning, sir," I answered.
"How'd you sleep last night?"
"Not so well Mr. Johnson, but don't you worry," I said proudly, "I'm going to bring you that fresh turkey." I stood there smiling proudly, but to my surprise, I got no response. I was confused, and after what seemed like forever, Mr. Johnson spoke.
"Well, Ed" he said, "I must say that I'm glad to hear that, but you know, if you go in like that, you're libel to scare the woman at the poultry counter to death.
" My face turned a bright camo-red, but the family was kind enough to keep their laughter to a five-minute maximum. After changing clothes I sat down and joined them for breakfast. An hour later I set out to McDell's Poultry Farm, 45 miles down the road.
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